I guess you could say ink and paper make the writer, and I guess that's why I choose not to use them.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Two Orange Parking Cones at War
Now one cone is at 90 degree (?) angle
pushed over, moved by hose--
for gasoline(?) refill--and instead of
teamwork it looks like one cone is
stabbing the other a mortal blow
he's crumbling,
Mordred and Arthur.
Awesome. Of course, this poem is maximized by reading the one right before it. The sequence of titles cracked me up.
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